Once upon a time, in an alcohol-soaked land not so far away, there lived a lovely girl who was known far and wide for her blunt honesty...
This is her version of how it all went to hell in a handbasket.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

It's a REALLY rare occasion that I ever quote my dad on anything, (and there's a reason for that...) but to be fair, my old man has the best phrase for a day like today. I'm what he calls a "Hurtin' turkey" which means in layman's terms that I am ill. For those of you who enjoy this phrase enough to use it, the phrase is most likened to cases of illness where the sufferer spends much of the time that he or she is conscious wishing, praying, hoping, or begging for death, because it seemse perfectly rational to trade one's life to end the suffering. Common sufferers of Hurtin' Turkey Syndrome or HTS are migraine sufferers, (especially those without medication at hand) severe hangover sufferers, most women at "that time of the month" who are suffering because their ovaries decide to play a rousing game of kick-the-uterus. (It should be noted that I am not currently suffering from any of the afforementioned ailments, so I'm left in the other-general-suffering category which is also associated with HTS.) Finding a cure for HTS is a moral imperitive for all people... in the utilitarian philosophy, a few should make small sacrifices to maximize the greater good of all, and the fact is that pretty much everyone suffers from Hurtin' Turkey Syndrome at some point in their lives... so, the sooner we find a cure-all for HTS the better off we'll all be!

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When the bat people tell you you've got a kickin party going, you know you're in some serious trouble...

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What was Pepto Bismol supposed to taste like before they gave it a cherry flavor?

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Does anyone else feel kinda sorry for Bam Margera's parents?

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Does anyone else wonder how all the kids learned to dance as well as they did at the end of Footloose if any pop music was banned? And seriously, what are those people, mormon?